When you pass by a mirror, pause there for a beat. Say, “Hello, lovely human!” to the face that you meet. It may feel quite silly. You’ll laugh at the view. But this life is unfolding and happ’ning to you…

Life doesn’t arrive in a box with a bow, with neat little labels explaining the show. It tumbles in sideways with whistles and squeaks, with glorious mornings and plumbing that leaks. Each dawn, tell your slippers, “A fresh day! Let’s start! I’ll listen more closely to what’s in my heart. Whatever comes knocking, whatever rolls through…

(Read this silly poem out loud to most fully enjoy it!) Mary McDermott McMaxwell McDuff Was asked by her teacher to spell the word tough. Because of her name, she replied “Tee-you-eff-eff,” which earned her Z-minus below treble clef. So here are some hints to help you if someone may
ask for help in spelling these troublesome words one fine day…

Does it start with a spark? Does it stop? Does it end? Is it tied with a ribbon and handed away, Or alive in each breath of an ordinary day? It says, “You may be you, in time and in space.” It makes room for each viewpoint, voice, and face…

Old Grumble McMutter met Miss Fussy McFrown, Who polished each pebble and straightened each town. He huffed at her humming. She frowned at his shoes. They argued on Tuesdays… and most Wednesdays, too…

There once was a clan of the Flibberty Flocks, Who polished their smiles and synchronized clocks. They ironed their curtains, they color-matched stew, And claimed that perfection was simply “what’s due.”

The people who irritate us most are often the unpaid teachers we never would have hired.
There once was Miss Cranklepants, Mayor of Sigh Town, Who wore her complaints like a glittering crown. “That fellow’s too noisy! That lady’s too loud! And don’t get me started on That Smirking Crowd!”

Inside your head’s a bustling town Where up is up—and down is down. A worrier waves a frantic flag, A dreamer totes a hopeful bag. A judge bangs loudly on a drum. A timid soul says, “Don’t be dumb.” A warrior growls, “Stand up and fight!” A saint insists, “Be kind. Be right.”

Poor Judgment’s been slandered, accused and maligned, As if using good sense were a terrible crime. “Don’t judge!” say some people. “Be spiritual instead!” Yet without a bit of judgment, we’d all bump our heads. We’d wander through life like a cart with no wheel, Or smile at a snake while ignoring how we feel…

When life gets quiet (and quiet it will), 
When noise fades away and the world holds still, When chatter goes soft and the rush disappears, And you’re left with your thoughts… and your questions… and fears— Most folks get uneasy. They reach for a sound, A screen, or a voice, or some busyness found. They fill up the silence, they turn up the noise, Distracting themselves with a thousand small toys…